“We should probably get going,” Vivie said. “Dad is cooking supper tonight.”

Knox pointed to their snacks. “Better not tell him you already ate.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be hungry by the time we get home,” Zara said with a grin.

In the mall parking lot, he slipped Vivie twenty bucks for gas and watched his sisters drive away.

Shiori wrapped her arms around him. “They’re great.”

“They keep my life interesting.” He gazed into her face. “What do you want to do now?”

“Is go home and sleep an option?”

He shook his head.

“What do you want to do?”

“Curl up with you on the couch and watch a movie.”

“And if I fall asleep?”

“I’d let you sleep.” He pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “I don’t care as long as I get to be with you.” And just so she didn’t think he was clingy, he added, “But if you have other plans, that’s fine.”

“I’d planned on working out at the dojo today.”

“Me too.” He grinned. “But I’m sure you can come up with a way to get us both hot, sweating, and breathing hard—without a treadmill.”

Shiori fisted her hand in his shirt and dragged his mouth to hers.

Her kiss damn near had him dropping to his knees in the parking lot.

She released his mouth, nipping his bottom lip before she backed off. “I’ll watch a movie with you, but Mistress rules apply. And we have to load up on junk food, because I require Junior Mints and black licorice with my popcorn.”

“Whatever it takes to make you happy, ma’am.”

“And I get to pick the movie.”

Knox shook his head. “No can do. My TV, my movie.”

“No horror.”

“Agreed.”

“No movies with car chases and explosions.”

“Now you’re just wrecking my fun, She-Cat. But we ain’t watching a chick flick, either.”

“As if I like that kind of mushy stuff.”

He brushed his lips across hers. “Such a little liar you are. I’ll bet you’ve seen just about every romantic comedy released in the last ten years.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Just because I saw them once doesn’t mean I need to watch them again and again.”

He laughed. “Gotcha.”

“How about sci-fi?”

“Not a big fan.”

“No martial arts,” they said at the same time.

“It might be fun. Every time the stunt double does some impossible maneuver, whoever spots it first can make the other one remove an article of clothing.”

Shiori poked him in the chest. “Then you’ll be naked pretty damn fast since you’ll only be wearing athletic shorts.”

“True. We’re running out of choices. I’m not an art-house-film guy.”

She nodded. “Movies based on real history are usually boring.”

“Agreed. So that leaves us with animated or my old standby for movies.”

“We are not watching porn.”

“Don’t need to watch porn when I’ve got you in my bed,” he growled.

“What movie?”

“Pale Rider.”

“Is that a . . . ?”

“Western,” he supplied, “starring none other than the man himself, Clint Eastwood.”

“I’ve never seen any of his films.”

“Then it’s past time for you to behold the glory.”

“All right.” She smiled at him—the devious smile that didn’t bode well. “But next time I get to pick.”

“Nothing with subtitles,” he warned.

Shiori tugged on his hand. “Snacks await.”

When they reached the checkout at CVS, Shiori pulled out her credit card and he had to muscle her aside to keep her from paying.

Back at his house, she changed into the casual clothes she’d picked up at the mall. He liked the slim fit of the designer sweatpants, but why any woman wanted to advertise Juicy on her ass escaped him. He stripped down to his boxer briefs since all his workout clothes were dirty.

They’d settled in with bowls of popcorn, sodas, and candy, ready to watch Clint wreak havoc, when his phone rang. He quickly glanced at the caller ID, then wondered why Merrick would be calling him on a Sunday.

“Hello?”

“Knox. It’s Merrick. I hope you’re having a good weekend. We missed you last night.”